


i hope you die, i hope we both die

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hard Kylux, Hurt/Comfort, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Large Cock, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Physical Abuse, Public Blow Jobs, Public Humiliation, Punishment, Rape/Non-con Elements, Size Difference, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, holographic blowjobs my favorite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 17:17:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20800076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: Kylo punishes Hux for his failures over holocall.





	i hope you die, i hope we both die

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired both by an image in the TLJ graphic novel of a giant holo!Kylo, as well as the scene in the trailer from the Resistance cartoon where Kylo is shown to control someone over holocall. 
> 
> Heed those tags, please, this one isn't particularly nice. If you aren't into dark and fucked up Kylux don't feel bad about giving this one the skip.

The notification for the incoming holocall comes the moment after Hux orders the retreat because of course it does, Hux has been cursed by bad timing all cycle and it doesn’t seem like fate is exactly through dragging him around just yet. He’s barely steadied himself from the impact that had rattled the _ Finalizer _ prior to the leap to hyperspace, and all he wants is to beat a hasty retreat himself, to curl up in his quarters, lick his wounds, and mull over his next plan of attack. Nevertheless, Hux tries to meet what’s bound to be yet another sound verbal thrashing from the Supreme Leader with at least a little bit of dignity. That’s expected of him, he assures himself, even though the officers on the bridge have seen him derided and debased enough for their opinions to drastically shift. He does his best to ignore the way their contemptuous, knowing eyes share glances as he accepts the call and turns up his nose. Trying to recapture an air of authority, he shoves his scattered hair back into place and keeps his smarting back as straight as he can muster. 

“Supreme Leader,” Hux addresses the hologram that suddenly looms out of thin air before him. It displays Ren’s entire body rather than a clipped part, from the heavy boots caked in mud all the way up to his unfurling nest of hair. He’s been away from the Order for several cycles now, leaving Hux in charge while he journeys to a swampy Outer Rim planet with his knights, in search of some sort of relic. Hux knows little more about the mission, having been shut out of the details.

The holoprojector casts everything about Ren in a spectral blue, but the ethereal glow does little to diminish the look of disapproval and barely masked annoyance in his face. 

“General,” Ren starts, voice resounding around the bridge and causing even the most hardened crewmembers to twitch in fear, “what is the meaning of this? How have the Resistance caught you so unawares?”

Hux wants to say that is usually the _ point _ of a sneak attack, and that it’s well-known that the Resistance has been reduced to such cheap, underhanded tactics after the decimation most of their fleet at Crait. But he keeps his teeth bitten down on that retort, grasping for the composure that had fled him during the battle, when he’d been staring near-certain death in the face. 

“Supreme Leader, there were fighters hiding in the ion storm around Eadu, we were unable to detect them properly until they were already—”

“How many lost?” Ren snaps, eyes flicking to the side. Out of the viewport, more star destroyers zip into sight, having escaped the skirmish alongside the _ Finalizer_. Hux tries to follow Ren’s gaze, only for an invisible force to jerk him back around by the chin. 

An involuntary tremble runs through Hux’s body. Ren’s hand curls, forcing him to look up. Hux doesn’t understand how it’s possible for Ren to use his powers from such vast distances, from whole systems away. Even a man as strong as Ren should have limits, should be forced to submit to the rules of science and reason. 

But Hux has seen it before. With Snoke, yes, but Ren too has demonstrated more than once the terrifying reach of his powers. Not long ago, Hux had watched Ren force a traitorous officer to shove their own blaster in their mouth, compelling them to pull the trigger from where he stood several ships over. 

“How many lost, Hux?” Ren repeats, the omission of his hard-won title like a knifepoint in his heart, injurious and intentional. Hux feels something skate across his grasped chin, invisible as ever but like the scrape of bitten, dirt-caked nail. 

Hux could be forgiven for his nervousness, he thinks, given both the aftermath of the battle and how intimidating Ren looks right now. Glower and threat of remote and immediate retribution aside, the projected image is scaled up to almost twice the normal size, reminiscent of Snoke’s appearances on the bridge back before Ren killed him. Hux flinches a bit at the memories that threaten the margins in his mind, but pushes them aside with a barely-there lick of his lips that he hopes Ren misses. Though the man can read his mind, so does it really matter?

Will anything he says in his defense matter? Hux has never liked to feel small, but it’s hard not to shirk a little bit with Ren expanded to such an intimidating size, as if to taunt Hux with a physical representation of the power differential between them. Still, he tries to steady his nerves so he can get this over with as quickly as possible. It’s better to keep any encounters with Ren brief. 

Hux squeezes his fingers around his wrist, hands still tucked behind his back, and valiantly looks the hologram right in its eyes. They’re so dark they look like pits, holes bored out of the synthetic blue. He’s a phantom, haunting Hux’s present and condemning his future to oblivion. 

Hux breathes in the air circulating the _ Finalizer_, finding it stiller and more stifling than it’s ever been. It’s cold, but does little to stem the sweat beading on Hux’s neck. The structured fit of his uniform around his chest, a usual comfort, now feels like a cage. 

“At least fifty TIEs. Both the _ Agonist _ and _ Claymore _ down. Damage to several other destroyers, potentially inoperable.” Hux tries to imagine he’s speaking to anyone else, perhaps someone he has meaningful power over, in order to keep his wits about him as he relates the bad news. “Other casualties will be tabulated as soon as I get reports from their commanders.” 

Hux can sense Ren doesn’t care all that much about the men lost or even the portion of their fleet destroyed, not that he ever has cared about lives that no longer serve his purpose. He knows the darkness stealing across Ren’s face stems from something far more personal than a pure, professional disapproval of Hux’s commanding skills. Ren has targeted Hux with a specific kind of viciousness ever since Snoke’s death, when Hux thought he had a chance to seize power and tried to take it, to cut the head off the snake before it sunk its venom into his veins. But now that Ren has heard Hux’s treachery ringing like a klaxon in his mind he clings to it, like an aggressive, untrusting dog with its teeth dug into a bone. A taste of blood and Ren has become ravenous, demeaning and undermining Hux whenever he can, both physically and mentally. And there’s little Hux can do about it, not when it’s far too late to pretend to bear a loyalty he’s already betrayed. Not when he’s stacked up against a man like Ren—who has by all accounts become a deity of necrotic darkness, overtaking the entire galaxy and binding it beneath him. 

“You continue to disappoint me, Hux,” Ren intones, carrying on with using his surname like he knows it sets a crawl upon Hux’s neck. “The Resistance is regaining footholds all over the galaxy. If they are not wiped out soon, they will only spread. Do you comprehend that?”

“Of course Supreme Leader, but one battle, one lucky ambush, can hardly change the tides of the war.” Hux hates to make excuses for himself, but Ren’s presence short-circuits his mind these days, leaving him frazzled and unusually defensive. “This won’t happen again.”

“Yes. I imagine you’ll say the same in the aftermath of your next failure.”

Hux twitches, feeling his heart rate increase despite his best efforts. _ Breathe_, he tries to remind himself, _ push through it_. But it’s difficult to remain calm and stop his building anxiety, already shaken by the battle, when Ren continues on berating him, never allowing Hux a word in edgewise. 

“Perhaps, if you consider yourself unable to fend off their measly raids I should relieve you of your duties and put someone more qualified and experienced in command. Someone less likely to embarrass the First Order with their incompetence. Perhaps _ then _ I could depart to tend to my own matters and not find myself having to clean up your mistakes, _ Armitage_—”

“_My _ mistakes?” The dam bursts before Hux can stop himself, voice resounding around the shocked silence of the bridge. “You think you are fitter to command than me? You talk about experience when you are hardly present to oversee your own forces! At least I am _ here_, not traipsing about on some stars-forsaken backwater _ swamps _ looking for trinkets!” Hux trembles in anger, composure fragmenting along with his self-preservation, the hair he’d pushed into place falling back over his forehead as he practically screams, “_you’re _ the god-damned embarrassment, Ren!”

Hux nearly bites the tip of his tongue off as a violent weight suddenly drops down on both of his shoulders, forcing him to the ground. The impact of his knees against the durasteel floor sends concussive pain shuddering throughout his body, but he manages to choke down the yelp that badly wishes to spring past his clenched teeth. 

Ren towers above him, seeming even larger than before. He looks angry, but not the vicious, uncontrollable anger Hux recalls from the past—more the anger of a disappointed god, regarding something so small and insignificant that it might as well be a speck of space dust, easily brushed away and lost forever. 

“One would think, by now, that you’d have learned to curb your tongue in the presence of your betters.” Ren looks a little resigned, as if he’d known this might happen, or like he’d been purposefully winding Hux up in order to have an excuse to push him around in front of his subordinates. But no matter the reason, this position—Hux on his knees, level with Ren’s prominent groin as the massive hologram towers over him—fills him with dread. Their eyes meet. They both know what might happen next. 

Still, Ren cocks his head and feigns consideration. 

“I have more important things to do at the moment than punish you, Hux. You know that. If you’re so confident you won’t fail again, then you’re welcome to plead your case.”

Hux realizes what Ren’s doing. He’s giving him the option to _ not _ take this in the direction they both know it’s bound to be heading. He’s allowing Hux an out, if he bows and scrapes and takes back what he said—accepts Ren’s mandate of his failures, his uselessness. 

But instead of doing that, Hux does what might be the dumbest thing anyone has ever done to a man like Kylo Ren. Keeping their gazes locked, Hux gathers all the saliva in his mouth that he can muster, brings it to the tip of his tongue, and spits a great glob of it at Ren. 

It sails through him, sending a ripple through his translucent form, before landing on the ground behind him with a contemptuous _ splat_. Hux pulls his lips into an unwise sneer, but it feels good to do it. 

As does what he uses his lips for next, as he breaks the stricken silence.

“Fuck you, Supreme Leader.” 

Hux’s head rocks to the side with a harsh blow from the Force, the impact nearly knocking him to the floor before Ren grabs him in mid-air and yanks him back upright. Hux isn’t bleeding, but his cheek smarts from the intangible slap, sure to swell into a bruise. Ren glares down at him. His face still carries that aloof disregard, but there’s more anger in his empty black eyes than there was before. The predatory interest that glints across them tells Hux he isn’t getting away from this without punishment, not now. 

“You will learn to speak respectfully,” Ren says, hand going to caress his groin. He gives it a warning squeeze, like he’s handling a weapon about to blow. “Or I will not allow you to speak at all.”

For some reason, Hux never thought that holocalls could transmit such lewd images. He finds himself hoping some sort of self-censorship program will kick in, foil Ren’s plans and render him as smooth and bare as a plastic doll, but the universe would never be so kind to Hux as to allow him an escape from this vile punishment. He watches in horror as Ren’s pants sag slightly down his hips, revealing a strip of pale blue flesh pecked with familiar patterns of dark moles as he pulls the fasteners down all the way. Something springs into his hand—thick and long and nearly twice as big as Hux remembers thanks to the projections scaled size.

Hux is ashamed to admit he has past experiences with Ren’s cock, not that any of them are recent. Things have turned sour between them ever since Ren killed Snoke—and yes, Hux knows, he’s no fool, he knows everything—and taken over the First Order, _ used _ it to fuel his mad desires. As such, their conflicts rarely spilled over into the bedroom anymore, though at this moment Hux wishes they would have. He would far prefer Ren take what he wants from him in private, rather than out here. 

But it can’t be helped now. It’s already inevitable, like the pull of a black hole. 

Tension and tight gasps of disbelief ripple through the bridge as Ren coaxes his cock up to full hardness in moments, the officers present not used to such an obscene, public display. Sexual exhibitionism had no place amidst the Order Hux knew, but everything he’s ever known has since become warped, twisted in ways he could’ve never conceived. Ren pays the appalled officers little mind, disregarding them as he disregards all principles of propriety, attention focused only on Hux as he works his hand up and down his cock in long, languid strokes, using his Force power to hold the general in place as he makes him watch. 

Hux wants to believe Ren is bluffing, engaging in a literal dick-waggling contest just to intimidate him, to get Hux to crack. It seems like a tactic such a vicious yet juvenile man might utilize, but then an invisible intrusion jam between Hux’s lips, hooking against his teeth and wrenching his jaw open to remove all doubt and Hux’s last shred of hope. Ren’s glowing hand comes up to cradle the back of Hux’s skull, so large and all-encompassing it wouldn’t surprise Hux, nor anyone else on the bridge, if he were to just crush it to a pulp and be rid of the thorny general once and for all.

But what he does next is far worse, and Hux finds himself praying for a swift death or at least blissful unconsciousness instead as Ren slides the head of his holographic cock into the helpless heat of the general’s mouth. 

Hux’s entire body jerks in shock at the sudden, wholly unexpected feeling of warmth and weight invading his body. His eyes grow wide, whatever protests he has transmuting into a dumb gurgle as Ren sinks in further, stretching Hux’s lips to their limit around the magnified girth of his cock. 

It feels like it’s actually there in his mouth, much more than just the incorporeal projection it should be, almost as if Ren is standing on the bridge in person and forcing Hux to blow him. The Force pushes into his mind, burrowing through his eyes and nose like parasites, hooking onto his nerves and pulling them into unnatural configurations, forcing them to accept the reality Ren wants Hux to undergo. 

And it works. Hux’s throat spasms, making him feel sick. This is something far worse than what he’s witnessed Ren do before. It’s insidious, inconceivably more depraved than any remote, physical punishment or even a forced suicide. Hux tries to close his eyes, but Ren keeps them open and watering, making Hux look up at him from beneath pale, trembling lashes. When he meets those pitiless, barely amused eyes, shame burns a trail across Hux’s cheek with such devastation he feels he’ll have physical scars from it.

“You’re a far better cocksucker than you are a commander,” Ren says with a lewd growl in his voice, the Force knitting harder into Hux’s hair to mirror the movement of his holographic fingers. “No more than a toy. A plaything, pretending to be a man. And now everyone knows it.”

Rage briefly cuts through Hux’s discomfort at that. For a moment, he wishes the cock in his mouth _ was _ real, if only so that he could clamp down and bite it off, neuter and cripple Ren for good. Shame him for once, repay him for all the degradation he’s put Hux through in such a short amount of time. Show Ren that he’s far more than just a _ thing_, just an object to be manipulated and used then tossed away like a used rag. But the invisible pressure in his mouth keeps his jaw hopelessly locked in place, teeth useless, saliva pooling over his tongue, robbing Hux of even the possibility of fighting back against an intangible, suffocating cock. Hux sees a bridge officer staring at him through Ren’s translucent body, expression wracked with horror and disgust, and scrunches up his eyes, unable to imagine things getting any worse.

And then Ren starts to move his hips. 

The glide of the shaft against the narrow space between Hux’s tongue and the roof of his mouth is a torturous chafe more than anything else, intentionally roughened by Ren as he forces Hux to feel every bit of abrasive, horrendously tactile sensation he can thrust into his hapless mind. Ren means this to hurt, to highlight the heights of his power and control, sparing no kindness for Hux’s comfort or safety. When the fat head of Ren’s cock hits the back of Hux’s throat, nearly blocking his airways, he lets it linger for a moment just to spike Hux’s pulse in mortal panic before yanking out and slamming back in—then again, and again, and again 

Hux has nothing to grab onto for purchase against the onslaught save his own knees, so he curls his nails into the fabric of his pants, fraying their immaculate edges as he rakes long lines into it. He can’t move, not with Ren’s vise-like Force encased around him, invading his mind and mouth alike. He barely responds to the cock rutting in and out of him, trying to preserve a bit of his dignity by not suckling and lapping at Ren like a mindless harlot, but it hardly matters. Ren seems content to just use him as a warm hole, to showcase his debasement to everyone around him, to prove to Hux just how great the gulf in power between them has always been. 

Welling saliva drips down Hux’s slack lips as Ren pulls back on a particularly vicious thrust, his jaw still pried open by the cruel clamp of the Force. It should be impossible for Hux to be feeling these things—the wrench of fingers in his hair, the abrasion of cock against his throat, the tears of pain squeezing in the tight corners of his eyes—yet he can’t deny them, can’t just shut it out and pretend this is one of his many awful nightmares involving Ren. 

It’s real, real as the durasteel floor bruising his knees, real as the shocked and disgusted expressions on his subordinates’ faces, and real as the shame and hatred bubbling up in his throat as Ren uses him, assaulting him with the power of the Force, exerting complete and utter control over Hux both in body and mind. He has no idea of Ren can feel any pleasure from this, though he lets out the occasional grunt and hiss, but perhaps it’s ecstasy alone to know he’s subjecting Hux to such horrific, helpless humiliation. 

The fingers in Hux’s hair pull tighter, forcing him flush against Ren’s shimmering hips as they up the pace, plunging the head of his massive cock towards Hux’s throat over and over again as he chases his orgasm. Hux feels it brush against his uvula and nearly chokes. He manages to force the urge down with a hoarse gurgle, unwilling to lose his meager lunch all over the floor. It would rob him of his last ounce of respectability—not that he has much left, but he clings to it because he's afraid of what might happen if he doesn't. 

Hux does his best to subdue his gag reflex when Ren finally makes it down his throat, apparently determined to come in the deepest part of Hux’s body he can reach. The stretch is painful, almost panic-inducing as Hux struggles to breathe through his nose. Above him, Ren speaks far too softly for someone with an oversized cock jammed down the throat of his subordinate, whispering falses praises and encouragement undermined by the voracious rutting of his hips. Ren’s invisible fingers massage the muscles in Hux’s neck and strum at the impulses in his mind, forcing him to swallow it all down, to _ enjoy _ it. Hux feels his own cock finally twitch in his pants and hates himself for his body’s weakness but there’s no point in fighting it, not when Ren controls him like this. Still, Hux narrows his eyes and tries to keep his gaze locked with Ren, filling it with as much hatred as he possibly can, in hopes that the callous brute might feel _ some _ sting of regret over what he’s doing. Or at the very least, understand that Hux is still a threat that could slide a knife between his ribs at any moment.

Ren just yanks him in closer and buries his cock further down Hux's throat as it twitches with pleasure, causing Hux’s eyes to roll back as he sucks desperate breath through his nose, Ren clogging his airways with cum. 

Ren finally releases him once he’s fully spent, pulling Hux off his cock and sending him sprawling backward. Hux catches himself on his side, elbow smarting from the impact with the ground. His greatcoat fans about him, fluttering to the floor, useless as any of his other defenses to protect him. His lips and chin feel filthy, mouth slathered with Ren’s cum, but when he tries to wipe it away and spit into his glove he finds nothing but his own, blood-tinged saliva. 

Hux shakes, staring at his glistening palm. It had all felt so _ real_.

The fact that Ren could make him feel whatever he wanted him to, no matter how upsetting or arousing—it leaves a lasting brand in his blood, his bones, his soul, his own pathetically half-hard cock. And Hux could do nothing about it but take it, and endure the onslaught until it stopped. 

“Don’t fail me again, general,” Ren orders, tucking his cock back in his pants with a nonchalance unthinkable for someone who’s just face-fucked a man in front of all his subordinates. “You do, and your humiliation will know no end.”

He says nothing more after that, his image flickering and fading as he ends the holocall. 

Hux stays on the floor for a long while after, long enough for the officers who had watched the whole ordeal to get uncomfortable, unsure of what to do or whether to help him. Eventually, one of Hux’s lieutenants finds his nerve and breaks away from his console to crouch at his commanding officer’s side.

Hux wants to push him away, yell away the naked concern on his face. Perhaps if he rejects anything help, it'll prove he’s not _ weak _ despite that entire sordid display proposing otherwise. But in his barely-there state it’s hard to do anything but relax and give his poor, abused throat a break as the lieutenant supports Hux’s head, letting rest against his chest. Hux’s eyes flutter closed, lids aching, lashes pasted together with tears. The last thing Hux hears is his lieutenant as he quietly comms a medic, the hum of the ship continuing onwards despite every horrible thing within its walls lulling Hux into a blissfully numb trance.

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on [Tumblr](http://thethespacecoyote.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/heir_of_breath7/).


End file.
